


Breakthrough

by SimplyShipping



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, F/M, Or don't, blah blah blah, love you tho, read it and weep, your choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShipping/pseuds/SimplyShipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz and Simmons have their overdue conversation about why Jemma left during Fitz' recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakthrough

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if you agree with me or if this conversation went differently in your head, but this is my (late) take on what was said behind the scenes before Fitz asked Jemma to dinner. Just wanted to share, plus I was aching to get it out of my head.

The lab smells faintly of petrichor. It’s an odd scent, considering the fact that she’s indoor. It gives her a strange feeling. She wishes the humidity of the room matched the smell of it, but the air is dry, and still. The lighting is dim, and where light shines it is met with a subtle haze. It’s quiet. The halls, the base, the lab. Everything and everyone is sleeping, except for her and for him.

“Hi.” she manages to spit out beneath her sigh. Fitz is sitting at his desk. His fingers are slowly tapping away at the keyboard of his computer. Whatever it is he’s working on has been a process he’s been stuck in for hours, leaking into the start of the next twenty four hour day. His reaction to her voice is the most energy she’s seen him display in the past fifteen minutes she’d been watching him through the windows of the lab. She had wrinkled the hem of her shirt, nervously fidgeting with the material as she attempted to organize her thoughts and stitch together every sentence she needed for her well rehearsed “fix it” speech. She had everything prepared. A monologue of an explanation, uninterrupted and unwavering to make everything better between them. To thrust them back into the strong, synced rhythm they’d had before everything went to hell at the bottom of the ocean. She needed to say what was on her mind. She needed him back. 

He nearly jumps at her presence. His head shoots up to see her, and then instantly ducks down again. He begins flicking at a stack of papers beside his computer, watching their edges jump whenever he makes contact.

“Didn’t expect you’d be up this late.” he says, one corner of his mouth twitching. He lazily lifts his hand and places it back on the keyboard. His middle finger bounces on the “enter” key, without adding enough pressure for the button to do anything. 

Jemma has begun fiddling with her shirt again, rehearsing her speech over again in her head. 

“I wanted to…” she paces herself, taking a single step forward. “Talk…” she finishes, latching her index fingers around each other to try and reduce her fidgeting. She’s certain she looks as nervous as she feels. “I thought now might be a good time. Maybe there wouldn’t be any interruptions.” She tries at a smile, but it quickly fades. Her eyes trail up to look at him, but just fall short before darting to her hands. 

Fitz sighs. He misses the keyboard and starts tapping on the desk instead. He finally looks up at her, his eyes heavy. “I don’t know if--”

“Fitz, I have to--” she trips over her words. The opening of her speech, she’s gone over it a million times. “I _need_ to explain to you. I--I need you to understand.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Fitz stands up, and puts his hands on his hips, stepping away from his desk. The floor catches his attention, or rather he can’t seem to continue looking at her when she’s desperate for him to do so. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly he can’t find his words. With a shaky exhale, he nods her on, keeping his focus locked on the floor between them. 

She sucks in a deep breath. “I thought at first you hadn’t made it.” she says with some more confidence, though her lip quivers slightly at the thought of it. She bites it still. “I thought I’d failed, and I could feel you… _not_ breathing.” She shakes her head. “That was the last thought I had before I blacked out, and Director Fury had to tell me you that you were...” she looks up, then down again, “breathing, that is.” she finishes. 

There is a brief silence. Fitz has no idea where this is going. Jemma’s speech comes to her in segments, puzzle pieces missing. Everything is disoriented. She tries to clear her head by clearing her throat.

She takes another step. “When I saw you in that hospital bed, you were practically lifeless.” her voice cracks on the last word. “And I’d never seen you like that before.” she swallows back a threatening sob. “It’s something I admire about you. You’ve always had so much life, even if you didn’t know what to make of it sometimes.” She smiles, remembering his. It’s something she hasn’t really seen in awhile. Not his full, broad, beautiful smile. 

Another step. “When you finally woke up, you could hardly even remember my name. At first, you didn’t say anything at all, and I’d wondered if you knew who I was.” Fitz glances up at her for the first time since she began. His eyes have grown glossy, and the sight of them gives her a twinge of hope she doesn’t feel she deserves. His expression is desperate. “For the first time in so long, I felt like a stranger to you. It was…” she shudders “I can’t even find a word for it.” She brings one of her hands up to rub at the twitch on her eyebrow. Fitz’s gaze burns through her. He’s tilted his head to the side, begging her without words to continue at this point.

“Eventually you started talking, well…” she lets out a small chuckle. “Grunting mostly at first. And when your sentences came back it was all...” she looks up at the ceiling. A single tear trickles down her cheek. Her words start coming out in a rush. “Y-You were so… _angry_. Mostly at yourself. You didn’t understand why your hand wouldn’t cooperate, and you kept getting frustrated. I tried helping you, but everything I said was an embarrassment to your intelligence and--”

“Jem--”

“Please don’t interrupt, I need to get this out. I can’t--” She holds her breath, and squeezes her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her tears have begun to fall freely now, and she presses her lips tight together in an attempt to control her lower lip which shakes without her permission. “Every suggestion I made upset you. I couldn’t help you with your designs because I didn’t understand them, and when I tried, and failed, you nearly threw your work across the room. I tried to treat you like nothing had changed, but you could never find the words to converse with me like before. Whenever we worked together, you were red hot with rage, but--” she sighs. “I saw you, sometimes, up at night by yourself.” Her tears have slowed, and her expression is pleading with him to understand. “You stayed up, in the quiet, to work on improving your hand. Sometimes you’d just stare at it, flexing it and testing your ability to control each finger. Sometimes you’d disassemble and reassemble things to see if your hand would stop shaking enough to get the pieces in place.” She takes another step toward him and they’re standing inches apart now. She reaches up to wipe away a few stray tears, then without hesitation, she makes eye contact, refusing to break it. “You looked so peaceful then.” She almost smiles. “And I hated myself thinking I couldn’t give you that peace. That when I was there it only made matters worse. I made you worse, Fitz.” 

Fitz shook his head at her final sentence, taking her face in his hands. She gasps at his touch, but melts into it immediately, one of her hands reaching up to hold his. He wipes at her tears. She’s gasping for breaths in between sobs. 

“No- no you didn’t.” he says to her, almost whispering. “You couldn’t.” He pulls her closer and wraps his arms around her in a hug. She latches on to him, practically scraping at his back to get him as close as possible. He smells like rain, and fresh cut grass. He feels like summer. She’s close enough to hear his heartbeat, and she desperately wants to, but she can’t quiet her sobs enough to listen. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” she cries into his neck. She feels his thumb smoothing over her shoulder blade and focuses on the feeling. He holds her, wishing they could somehow be closer. He tries to ignore the warmth of her breath on his neck, or the way her lips softly brush against his skin. He brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair, and her breathing steadies. She nuzzles her head further into his neck and at this point she’s essentially kissing it. He closes his eyes and his arms more tightly around her, which he didn’t even know was possible. They stay that way for a beat. She breathes him in, missing everything about him. Reveling in the feeling of embrace. 

Her arms slide down his back, and her hands land on his waist. She pulls away from him only so much that their noses are nearly touching. She glances down at his lips before pulling further away to make proper eye contact. His hands are resting on her shoulders. 

“Can you forgive me?” she asks in a low voice. He brushes a strand of hair from her face.

“Already have.” he responds, with a slight shrug and a smile.


End file.
